Charades
by monica20
Summary: Chapter 3 online. Story complete. Rochester proposes to Jane. Lady Ingram gets a shock.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMERS: Characters belong to Charlotte Bronte, I'm merely borrowing them. :)

FEEDBACK: Greatly appreciated!

**Charades**

**Part One**

It had been a long tedious day. It had started with breakfast and making polite small talk with his guests. His patience was wearing thin and he wondered how much longer he could endure Lady Ingram's little hints about an engagement to Blanche. Also, he could barely tolerate her holier than thou attitude – he'd never met a man or woman who elevated themselves so above everyone else.

He was overjoyed when his agent made an unexpected visit and he had to excuse himself for a few hours and attend to business matters.

However his escape was short-lived as he'd been obliged to make an appearance after lunch. It seemed Blanche wished to go for a ride. Since that didn't involve having to converse with her, he acquiesced.

Mesrour was more spirited than usual and had been rather eager for a good gallop in the grounds surrounding Thornfield. Blanche and her white mare had barely been able to keep up. It made Edward smile – for all her boasting about being the best horsewoman in the county, her fair mare was no match for Mesrour.

And now he'd escaped to the solitude of his study – weary of acting out the role of perfect host. Why had he let this charade continue for so long? He was tired of it now. It had served a purpose while Jane was present, but alas she was no longer in his company. When the deuce was that witch going to return? Did she have any idea how much he missed her? Perhaps it was better that she didn't – at least not yet.

Oh, she was off doing her duty, like the good little fairy she was. Never mind that her Aunt Reed hadn't shown her a moment's kindness or that she'd packed her off to Lowood to starve and be ill-treated. But being the person that she was Jane had felt compelled to rush to her aunt's dying side.

Edward could just imagine his own reaction if he'd had an aunt like that. He'd have told her to go to the devil or some similar phrase. There'd been times he'd wanted to tell his father the same, and if the senior Rochester had still been alive, he might have.

He leaned up against the mantelpiece and sighed deeply. He felt a twinge of hunger but the prospect of sharing his repast with the likes of the Ingram family was enough to quell his appetite there and then. Maybe he'd sit with Eshton and the twins, whom his friend had taken quite a shine to — of course, all in the pursuit of scientific advancement.

The hours of the day dragged without Jane's presence. A few weeks ago it was about this time of night that he'd develop a slight knot in his stomach in the eager anticipation of spending the evening with her. He'd rush his meal, wolfing it down in one gulp. If one of the servants offered him seconds he politely refused. This was greeted with a disapproving look from the cook and a few inquiries from Mrs. Fairfax as to his health and well being. He'd reassure all that he was well and dash into his study and summon this strange unearthly creature called Jane Eyre, who not only held a fascination for him, but was worming her way into his heart.

His pulse would increase at the sight of her – all prim and proper with her hair tied neatly back and dressed in a bland grey dress. Yet to him she was the most beautiful woman on earth. He imagined loosening her hair and letting it fall, softly cascading down her back. Not only had she managed to bewitch his horse, he too was now a victim of her witchery, falling fast under her magical spell.

But now the evenings held no magic for him. He gazed out the window longingly, wondering if she ever thought of him. Did she miss him? He wished she'd at least write. He knew Mrs. Fairfax had received a letter from Jane but apart from telling him she was well and busy spending time with her family, communicated no further information.

He lit a cigar and inhaled deeply. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Jane when he heard the door open. He looked up to find Blanche enter. How rude of her not to knock! Did she think she owned the place already?

Then a thought sprang to his head. It was time to end this – to put Miss Ingram in the picture. He thought he'd already done that when he'd played the gypsy and told her he wasn't half as wealthy as she'd imagined. He was more than surprised when her attentions towards him had not cooled. She must really be desperate, he thought. He was no fool – there wasn't an inkling of love in her eye. She was a mercenary and played her part well. There were obviously no other options for her on the horizon and he surmised Lady Ingram had trained her daughter well. While a marriage to the Master of Thornfield may not be her first choice, at present it appeared to be the only one.

That gave him the upper hand. He was going to enjoy being blunt.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Not at all," she answered. "I was just taking a stroll through the hall before dinner."

And cataloguing everything in sight, he thought. "And did you like what you saw?"

"Naturally," she smiled. "It could of course do with a little management – a few new furnishings here and there."

Hmm…in his younger days he just might have been caught in her net, with her batting her eyelashes at him in that manner and her coquettish tone of voice. New furnishings indeed! He suddenly had a glimpse of what life with Blanche would be like – an image of being carted off to London in search of whatever took her fancy. With her greed his fortune would probably be spent in a year! He smiled to himself, thankful he was no longer such a young fool.

"And would you like to take all this on?" he asked. Her only response was a flirtatious smile. He took it to mean yes, but decided on a more direct line of questioning. "What do you really want, Blanche?"

The expression of surprise painted on her face and slight annoyance rather pleased him. His plan was working.

"I don't know exactly what you mean," she said, doing her best to save her face. He had to admire that.

"Really? I thought you were rather proficient in English."

Now she looked offended, but no words escaped her lips.

"I thought you would appreciate my directness, Blanche. Unless of course you rather we dance around the issue indefinitely?"

"A gentleman does not usually address a lady in such a manner."

"Ah, so it was my manner that offended you. I apologize. How would you wish I phrase my question?" he inquired.

"In the manner you have always spoken to me."

"I see. However, I feel it is time to bring this charade to its conclusion."

"Charade? I don't understand."

"I think we both know why you've displayed an interest in me and Thornfield. I suggest we dispense with this little game we've been playing."

"Game? I have been playing no such game."

"I see, so in truth you are madly in love with me?" he asked, with a glint of amusement in his eye.

"I…well…Edward, you know—" She seemed to stumble for the correct words.

"You are no more in love with me than I am with you. This is the moment of truth, my dear. Denying it makes you a liar."

"How dare you stand there and accuse me—"

"I dare. I've just about had my fill of you and your mother looking me up and down as if I was some prize stallion. I half expected her to have surveyors brought in to value Thornfield."

"Edward! Please—"

He continued, ignoring her pleas. "I think it would be prudent if you advised Lady Ingram to stop hinting at our on-the-verge-of-announcement engagement because once it is discovered that no such event is to pass, I believe she will feel rather foolish."

"Edward Rochester! I am speechless!" There was anger in her voice and a fire in her eyes. So she did have some spirit after all.

"Are you?" He was enjoying this.

"How you could have toyed with my feelings and led me on in this disgusting manner! You're a scoundrel!"

"Indeed I am. But I thought you were speechless, my dear."

She was about to respond when he cut in. "My dear Blanche, I have no more toyed with your feelings than you have with mine. Let us drop the pretense. I believe your annoyance at the outcome of the situation but I too well know the reason."

She looked incensed and annoyed that she couldn't come up with some clever response to wound him. She took a deep breath and announced that she would send for her carriage from Ingram Park first thing in the morning.

"As you wish," he answered. "And now with this unpleasantness out of the way, shall we go to dinner?"

If looks could kill he'd have been lying dead on the floor at this moment. "If you could be so kind and have something sent to my room?" Her voice was ice.

"Of course. What shall I tell your mother?"

"Make something up. That seems to your forte." With that she left shutting the door loudly behind her. He chuckled to himself. That was the most fun he'd had since Jane's departure.

* * *

Blanche had not been forthcoming with her mother. She'd merely explained she wanted to go home and had matters to attend to. She suspected her mother thought that meant she wished to return home to begin preparations for her marriage. Let her think that for the present, explanations would do once they returned.

With the announcement of the Ingram party vacating the premises, the other guests had felt it was time to depart as well and soon the large hall on the ground floor of Thornfield was filled with everyone's luggage. As Blanche walked along the corridor towards the room she felt a shiver down her spine as she heard her mother boasting once more how they would not be attending the summer ball because they'd be preparing for a much more important event.

Within a few hours they were packed up and ready to depart. Rochester was waiting for her and offered his hand to escort her to the carriage. This pretense sickened her and she loathed the sight of the man. To think she'd actually considered marrying him! But she would play this final charade with him – merely for appearance's sake.

Not a word was spoken between them for which she was grateful. She surveyed her surroundings – the house that she'd never be mistress of. She noticed the governess standing in the window above watching her and Rochester. What a nosey little creature she was!

Rochester released her hand as they approached the carriage and she gave him a polite nod. His face was blank and cold, his expression written in granite. Perhaps she'd made a lucky escape – could life have been tolerable with such a cruel, devious and unfeeling man?

She stepped inside while her mother assured Rochester that he would see her again soon. "Ingram Park is a short journey for an enthusiastic rider."

Blanche cringed at her mother's assumptions and imagined Rochester to be enjoying himself.

"Indeed," he answered and wished them a safe journey. With that the carriage pulled away.

"My darling, why the sour expression? I'm sure you'll see him in a few days."

Blanche had no wish to engage her mother in conversation at this point or offer up explanations. "I have a slight headache, that's all."

"Well what do you expect when you skip breakfast?"

"Don't fuss, mother. I'm sure it will pass."

"Of course." Lady Ingram asked a few other questions, but Blanche was not forthcoming and relieved when her mother gave up. Instead she stared out of her window at the passing countryside, wondering where her future would take her next. Everything felt so uncertain now.

* * *

Edward felt like a different man! Jane was home and Blanche and her interfering mother were finally out of his sight! He could be himself again, without the pretense he'd engaged in over the last few weeks.

He spent the evening with Jane, walking about the grounds while she told him of her visit with her cousins and now dead aunt. It was so good to be in her company again. He felt revived and refreshed – only her companionship had this affect on him.

They watched the sunset and then retired to the house. He asked her to stay with him if she was not tired. She smiled directly into his face, it lit up accentuating her soft features and he felt his heart skip a beat. Could he hope that she felt as he? Had he awoken in her the feelings of love and passion that had been so alien to her before?

He could not be certain yet, although he'd received a few hints. Only today she'd told him how glad she was to be back and that she considered her home to be wherever he was. He'd stood frozen to the spot when his ears had registered her words. They filled him with hope…hope for a better life, for a wonderful future…would she consent to be his bride?

Then this evening she'd brought up the topic of his supposed marriage to Blanche. Whilst the charade with Blanche had been brought to its natural conclusion, Jane continued to believe he had every intention of marrying that mercenary. He struggled within himself – uncertain and insecure. When should he end the pretense? How far should he push Jane to discover how she really felt?

It troubled him greatly to imagine that he could be the instrument of pain to his beloved, but he knew of no other way to proceed. Though there were times when he thought to hell with all of this and he'd struggle not to clasp her in his arms, press his lips to hers, and declare his heart's desire.

But there was still that lingering doubt, the possibility that he'd imagined Jane felt anything but friendship for him. There were matters to take into consideration – from the outset she'd told him she did not find him attractive. Then there was the difference in their ages – a girl like Jane would probably wish to attach herself to a man in his youth, not one weighed down with life; his emotional baggage like a millstone around his neck.

So how was he to proceed? He hadn't worked out the finer details of his plan so merely reassured her that he would find her a new position. She nodded in agreement but the reminder that her stay at Thornfield was not indefinite had drained the colour from her face. Was it merely the thought of leaving the house, Adele and Mrs. Fairfax? Could there possibly be more?

If only he could be certain! He'd played Blanche's suitor well enough – but had it roused Jane's jealousy? He did not know.

They entered his study and Jane sat down. He poured himself some brandy and offered her some. She always refused, but he made it a habit of asking her on the off-chance she might accept. He seated himself in his usual chair and gazed into the fire.

"What are you thinking of, sir?" she asked.

He smiled at her. She was comfortable with him and addressed him more like a friend than her master. He enjoyed that – he wanted her to feel at ease.

"Just what a pleasant evening we've spent together."

"I see."

"And you Jane, what are your thoughts?" He wasn't commanding as he'd once been with her, demanding her to reveal the inner workings of her mind.

She looked down at the floor and he noticed a slight blush tinge her cheeks. This piqued his curiosity.

"Nothing in particular," she answered, but speaking to the fire instead of facing him.

He wished to believe her answer was far from the truth, but tonight was not the night to make that discovery. He'd bide his time – he'd know when the right moment came along.

"Would you like to read?" he enquired. This was one of the ways they'd spend their evenings. They'd either sit in silence together, each one reading a book from his library, or she'd read aloud to him a book of his choice.

"Perhaps you would read aloud, sir?"

"Me?"

"Yes, if that would be acceptable, sir."

"Yes, it's acceptable," he smiled. "However I confess that I am intrigued by your request."

"There is no mystery, sir. I think you have a pleasing voice."

"Ah, a compliment at last! Well that makes up for you not finding me handsome," he chuckled.

She seemed embarrassed and again her eyes were fixed on anything but him. He left her for a moment and made his way to the library to retrieve a suitable book. Scanning the shelves he found what he was looking for — a book she'd placed there only today. She called it her escape book.

Returning to the study he sat down and started to read. Now and then he'd glance up and find her watching him intently. For a few brief seconds their eyes locked. Could she see what was written in his? He smiled at her and she smiled back.

It was past eleven o'clock by the time they left the study and went to their separate bed chambers. He'd been the one to suggest they retire. He'd noticed her yawn several times and she had undertaken a long journey that day. He'd secretly wished that she would have fallen asleep – he'd have had the chance to take her in his arms and carry her to bed, and have a plausible explanation for it. Alas fate was not going to be his co-conspirator and she made her way to her room on her own two feet.

**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: First I'd like to thank all who took the time to leave reviews. Very much appreciated and it's a great encouragement. Secondly I should have made it clear -- but this fic is not only based on scenes from the book, but also from the new BBC adaptation of Jane Eyre starring Toby Stephens and Ruth Wilson. It airs in the US on PBS on Jan 21st. Watch it! It's great! The scene with Blanche being escorted to the carriage by Rochester in chapter 1 was actually a scene from the adaptation. I hope you don't mind if I mix bits of the book and the adaptation. Some scenes are also completely original and of my doing. :) I hope it doesn't become confusing. Enjoy!_

**Charades**

**Chapter 2**

Three days had passed since their return to Ingram Park. Lady Ingram scanned the mail left for her on the breakfast table — no news from Thornfield. One of the servants entered with a fresh pot of tea. She enquired if perhaps a message for Blanche had been delivered by hand. The answer was no.

What kind of a suitor was Rochester, to not send word or make an appearance? He'd seemed so enamoured of her daughter during the house party and now…nothing. It was a perplexing matter.

It was already after 9 o'clock in the morning and Lady Ingram wondered where Blanche could be. Perhaps she was out of spirits, missing Rochester. But it was odd that her daughter hadn't made mention of him since their return.

Blanche finally made an appearance and sat down beside her mother at the table. "How did you sleep my darling?"

"Very well." Blanche scanned the mail.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing from him," her mother told her.

"I wasn't expecting anything."

"I see." Lady Ingram was surprised. "Do you expect him to ride over soon?"

"I would find that occurrence unlikely."

"Blanche, what do you mean?" She was beginning to alarm her mother.

"I wished to tell you the day we left Thornfield, but couldn't bring myself to and the last few days there hasn't been an opportune moment. The truth is mother that it was all a charade."

"Excuse me?"

"A charade, a game — I know not what its purpose was except to humiliate me. Mr. Rochester made it perfectly clear to me the night before we departed that he had no intention of proposing matrimony to me."

Lady Ingram felt sick to her stomach and dizzy. She clasped her head in shock. She must have misheard – Blanche could not mean she was not engaged to him.

"Mother, are you well?" Blanche asked. She'd obviously noticed her mother turn a little pale.

"A charade? A game?" she gasped. "Tell me again, Blanche, slowly. Do you mean to tell me you and Mr. Rochester will not be getting married?"

"That is correct."

"You must have misunderstood."

"I assure you I did not. His words were plain."

This made no sense at all. What possible reason would he have to trifle with Blanche? The man had to be insane. "I do not understand. Why would he do such a thing? What kind of man is he?"

"Certainly no gentleman," Blanche answered.

Lady Ingram drank her tea in an effort to compose herself. Two matters troubled her greatly. Firstly, most of the gentry in Millcotte expected the announcement of an engagement between Thornfield's master and the belle of the county any day. She had seen to that, mentioning it at every opportunity presented to her.

She'd been presumptuous – assuming that Rochester could not resist the charms of her beautiful daughter. Reflecting on the matter she concluded that her confidence had been in haste. Rochester had known Blanche for several years and had never hinted at a courtship before. This time it had felt different though – he'd seemed to single her out from the other ladies, paying her special attention. Blanche had had every right to expect a proposal.

The second matter of concern was for Blanche's future. She'd hoped to secure her daughter a wealthy husband. She'd been so certain that within a short space of time Blanche would have been instilled as Mistress of Thornfield. Where had it all gone wrong? And what kind of rogue was Rochester to play with a young lady's feelings so?

"Blanche, it is his loss," she said, trying to reassure her daughter.

"Of course."

But what was to become of Blanche now? She wasn't eighteen anymore and Rochester had one of the last available bachelors in the area. She would have to reflect on the matter.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since his guests' departure and Edward had enjoyed the relative quietness of Thornfield. Bertha had been more placid than usual and had not attempted any further escapes from her prison. Perhaps Grace's recent increase in wages had compelled her to be more vigilant. 

His days were spent attending to business. Sometimes he'd take Mesrour out for a ride. The horse was spirited and it was not good to keep him locked up in the stables. It was when he was out riding that he wished Jane was a horsewoman. He'd have enjoyed her company. Well it was something he'd see to once they…correction, if they married.

Yes, that was his plan and had been so for quite some time – if it ever bore fruit was yet to be seen. He'd tried to draw her out the night he'd dressed up as the gypsy, but he knew all too well how her conscience would stand in the way of happiness if the truth about him were to be revealed.

If he wanted his fairy for his own, he would have to deceive her. Ugh…he hated that idea, but what was he to do? He could not risk losing her. Now that he'd tasted what heaven it was to be with her, he could not give up such a joy, even if it meant lying to his innocent lamb.

One day…one day when the time was right, when he'd had her safe for at least a year – he would reveal all to her and pray that God would be merciful and that Jane would understand and find forgiveness in her heart. But he was getting ahead of himself. At the present time he still did not know if Jane would accept him as her husband.

He'd finished breakfast and was on his way to his study to look at some papers when he stopped at the half open door to the school room. Edward stood in the corner, unseen, and watched Adele and Jane. He'd done this many times before and never been caught. He watched as Jane patiently tried to explain a simple mathematical formula to the young Parisian whose mind was probably more preoccupied with thoughts of pretty dresses.

He smiled to himself. If he had his way she would not toil with her governessing slavery much longer. He was becoming impatient and struggling harder each day to resist straining her to his heart. Feigning disinterest was too difficult. He could not act the cool master, nor could he merely act the friend. Friend – bah! Friendship's rose was very pale compared to the passionate red rose of love and desire.

If it were not for his doubts he would speak his heart. But the thought of rejection plagued him. He had to test her mettle – to know whether her feelings were as strong as his. And there was only one way to accomplish this. He had to present the prospect of forever being separated from him.

Another charade – another lie – oh yes, he was tired of these games. But life had been cruel and taught him not to take any chances. He'd been a gullible fool when dealing with Bertha and where had that landed him? He's been a trusting son when it came to his father and he'd been betrayed. Discovering his friend Richard had been a co-conspirator on the plan to wed him to his lunatic sister had set Edward against ever trusting another friend as long as he lived.

Since that time he'd been careful to not allow acquaintances to ripen into any kind of deep and meaningful friendships. He'd sensed that Eshton would have sought him out more often, but Edward had been careful to keep him at arm's length. Trusting no human soul and not sharing confidences was the far safer option.

But with Jane it had been different – he'd sensed her sympathetic nature from the start. Without knowing it he'd spoken freely to her of such personal matters like his relationship with Celine and his need for redemption. She'd been an attentive and kind listener, her eyes full of warmth. But was it pity or love? He ached to know. The uncertainty was driving him mad.

As for the details of the charade…well he'd planned it last night while trying to fall asleep. He'd come up with the name of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall and five fictitious daughters who lived in Ireland. Their ages would range from eight to fourteen years. He'd even made up names for them in case Jane enquired. Now he needed to wait for the opportune moment to breach the subject.

"Monsieur Rochester!" he heard Adele cry. Damn! He'd been so wrapped up in his ponderings he hadn't realized he was now in Adele's direct line of vision. Instead of working on her mathematical problem, it appeared that she'd grown impatient and decided to practice a few pirouettes, much to Jane's chagrin.

Now that she'd spied him she came rushing up the doorway. "Monsieur, I am so tired of mathematics – can you persuade mademoiselle that I continue another time, s'il vous plait?" Her expression and tone of voice reminded him of Celine and the memory brought bile up his throat.

Celine has always asked him for things in such a manner, whether it be a new carriage, new dress or item of jewellery. He tried to push the thought of her away and concentrate on Jane.

"Adele, do not trouble Mr. Rochester," he heard Jane say as she approached him.

"I have no intention of making any such petition on your behalf, Adele. Arithmetic is very useful, you should be grateful Miss Eyre has the patience to teach you."

Adele gave him a disappointed expression and skulked back to her desk. "I did not mean to interrupt," he started, thinking up some kind of plausible explanation for his presence to Jane. "I was merely passing."

"I hardly think you need to explain your presence in your own home, sir," Jane teased.

"Of course," he nodded. "Well I won't disturb you any further." He started to walk down the corridor and then stopped and turned. Jane was standing in the doorway watching him. "I'll see you later this evening, Jane."

"Yes, sir."

He made his way to his study with a spring in his step. She'd been watching him instead of returning to her duties. He was pleased. Perhaps there was reason to hope…

* * *

While Jane had been at her Aunt Reed's he'd left his guests for two days for a journey to London to pick out a new carriage. Its purpose was two-fold. He had every intention of becoming a bridegroom therefore a new carriage was warranted. He purchased a beautiful, ornate white one. It was for Jane, but that would not be revealed until the opportune moment. In the meantime he could pretend it was for Blanche, and study Jane's reaction. 

He'd discovered on her return that he was not to be the one to impart the knowledge of this purchase. He'd accused her of having second-sight when she'd told him she knew full well of his trip to London to buy the carriage – but the knowledge had not been acquired by supernatural means. The truth was in fact that Mrs. Fairfax had written to her and communicated the news.

He'd been unable to gauge her feelings on the matter; she seemed rather muted on the subject. Perhaps visual evidence would give him a better clue.

The carriage arrived promptly on time this fine morning – at 10 o'clock. He proceeded outside to inspect it and was rather pleased to see Adele hurriedly running out, with Jane in tow.

Now he'd play his card. Over the years he'd become quite adept at poker, fooling his opponents into parting with their hard earned savings. Jane did not play poker and he assumed, therefore, could not tell when he was bluffing.

Adele was her usual Parisian self, climbing into the carriage and giving it a good look over, as if it had been purchased for her sole use.

Edward took his opportunity and asked Jane if she felt this would not suit his bride-to-be perfectly? She did not answer, merely surveyed the carriage. He pressed on, asking her if she had some kind of potion which could make him more handsome, so he would suit Blanche better. He'd meant the comment to sound humorous. Her response, while jovial, was not what he'd hoped for.

He knew he was no Apollo but he did hope that something about his physiognomy might attract Jane. When she'd told him she found his voice pleasing the evening of her return from Gateshead his heart had swelled at the compliment.

He watched her and Adele retreat back to the house and sighed in disappointment. The gentleman who'd delivered the carriage asked for his signature and Edward invited him inside to sort out the payment.

* * *

Lady Ingram had encouraged her daughter to attend the summer ball after all. At first Blanche had protested, explaining that she did not wish to explain to prying people why she was not making arrangements to become Mrs. Rochester. 

Lady Ingram told her not to fear and that her friends would be too well mannered to ask. Blanche did not appear convinced, but after spending over two weeks at Ingram Park, seemed grateful for the opportunity to vacate it. Lady Ingram had also heard through an acquaintance that a rather rich solicitor from London by the name of Mr. Hamilton would be attending. He was a cousin of the Dent family and would be their guest for a few weeks.

Her friend had informed her that Hamilton was a widower in his early forties, and had one son around the age of nine. She knew Blanche was not overly fond of children, but if anything came of the two of them being introduced to each other the boy could always be sent away to school.

Blanche was surprised when her mother announced that she would not be going with her.

"I think you will be better off without me."

"I see."

"What do you mean by that tone?" Lady Ingram asked.

"While you feel people may not have the courage to question me as to why I am not yet residing at Thornfield as its mistress, you fear some may take the opportunity to poke fun at your never ending boasting in regard to my supposed wedding to Edward Rochester."

"I did not boast!"

"Mother, every opportunity that availed itself I heard you announce to people that our engagement was on the verge of becoming official."

"You can not blame me for expecting this."

"Perhaps…but your presumption did not serve you well."

"For your sake, Blanche, I wish I could take the words back."

"Why for my sake? You tell me I should go to the ball and hold my head up high as if nothing has occurred. I also hear you have picked out my next victim…err forgive me, I mean suitor."

"Blanche, you can not afford to be choosy – not at your age!"

"Quite true. However, I am no fool. It is not for my sake that you do not wish to attend. I repeat again – you fear being mocked by your own circle of friends."

Lady Ingram had no wish to argue with her daughter or let Blanche have the upper hand. She was grateful when a servant interrupted them asking if Blanche was to go riding today and if her horse should be made ready. She requested that it was.

"I will do as you wish, Mother and go to the ball. I will capture Mr. Hamilton's attention, flatter him and try out my feminine wiles on him, but on the condition that you attend with me. However, this time I would caution you not to bring up the subject of weddings or engagements until I instruct you to."

She did not wait for a response but left the room. Lady Ingram was taken aback. Her daughter had never spoken to her in such an abrupt manner. But it seemed she had no choice but to comply with her daughter's request. Maybe it would not be as humiliating as she feared.

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Charades**

**Part 3**

It was a beautiful summer evening. Edward wandered alone amongst the gardens of Thornfield. He hadn't requested Jane's company this evening, nor the previous two evenings. He'd secretly hoped she might seek him out herself. To his disappointment she hadn't.

Perhaps she didn't feel she had the right – whilst he viewed her as an equal he hypothesized that she felt the class division between them more strongly. He'd practically ignored it from the time of their first meeting. She'd appeared glad when he'd suggested that their dealings with each other should be informal, but still there was the gap between master and employee which would not be completely bridged until he spoke his mind.

He lit a cigar and went to sit by the chestnut tree. He wondered what he'd do if Jane rejected him. Would he go back to Europe? It did not entice him. The idea of mistresses repulsed him. He had no idea what to do with himself if he could not attach this sweet innocent to himself.

He finished his cigar and was about to return to the house when he heard someone walking past. Glancing in the direction of the noise he spied his beloved.

"Jane," he called, attempting to sound nonchalant when in fact his very heart was beating twice its normal speed.

"Yes, sir?" she stopped and looked in his direction.

"Come sit with me for a while." She looked hesitant. "I mean if you please."

She came hither and sat down. He knew this was the moment of truth — either she loved him and would agree to be his wife or… No, he would not dwell on the alternative.

He did not wish to cause her pain but he knew he had to breach the subject of Ireland and continue the charade that he was to marry Blanche. It appeared to be the only method available to prompt Jane into speaking her own heart. As he did he studied her face. The idea of leaving Thornfield was indeed painful; she mentioned how the sea would be a barrier. He pressed her further – in what way would it be a barrier?

"From England, from Thornfield and—"

"Well?" he asked. Did she have any idea what power she had over him, that her next words would be the deciding factor in his future?

"From YOU, sir."

There were tears in her eyes and her voice was full of emotion. He wanted to believe, to pull her into his arms and reassure her that there was no necessity in departure and yet his insecurities were not satisfied.

"Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"

She did not answer – it appeared she was battling with her emotions. He continued to speak, expressing some of his own feelings.

"I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you — especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. When we are parted I am afraid that cord of communion will break and then I shall take to bleeding inwardly."

It was quiet around them except for a nightingale singing in the background. "Of course when you leave you'll forget me," Edward said. He'd hoped this last part would incite her to say something, hopefully rebuke him and tell him he was talking utter nonsense.

His plan worked. Jane stood up defiantly and gave him the declaration he'd wanted so much to hear.

When he could bear her anguish no longer, he stood up and swept her into his arms. But she struggled to free herself, not believing his confession of love. He asked her to be his wife, but still she refused to acknowledge the offer as genuine. Then he realized he'd played his part too well. To Jane the charade seemed closer to the truth than his declaration of love for her.

But he was determined that the skeptic would be convinced! He entreated her, spoke passionately of his deep love and begged her to be his. She appeared incredulous but little by little he could see the truth was beginning to sink in.

"Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?" she asked.

"I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it." With that she agreed to marry him. All the anguish, insecurity and doubt had finally been swept away. His life would be changed forever – with his soul mate at his side.

He pulled her into his arms and this time she accepted him without a struggle. At last she belonged to him. He could love and cherish her, protect and take care of her. He kissed her gently and then held her, savouring the moment, committing it to memory. He promised to make her happy – she would never be alone, hungry, cold or destitute again.

For a few moments he enjoyed the state of pure unadulterated bliss but now his conscience (not as rusty as he might have supposed it was) reminded him painfully that in the eyes of God he was attempting to trap this innocent creature into a defamed union. Curse his conscience! Surely God would have mercy on him?

He looked up into the grey sky and asked for God's forgiveness, to Jane's apparent confusion. She reassured him there was no one who would meddle. There damn well not be! He deserved this happiness, hadn't he suffered enough? Had he not paid his dues?

He was hurting no one by doing this, he told himself. He'd make Jane a good husband. Yes, he would be her husband in every sense but one. She would be none the wiser, and except for a small legal impediment apparent only to him, they could live their lives as one flesh.

But something had changed – the wind had picked up speed and there was a sense of agitation in the air. He felt drops of rain fall and taking Jane's petite hand into his own suggested they return to the house. The drizzle quickly became a downpour and they started to run towards Thornfield. He heard Jane laugh and quickly turned to see her smiling face. This was the face of a woman who was loved and happy. He'd make certain she always looked this way.

By the time they reached the house they were both drenched and he urged Jane to go inside and get out of her wet clothes. Yet his actions were the opposite of his words as he would not permit her to leave him – instead kissing her repeatedly. He felt drunk on his own emotions, on the feelings she incited within him. His darling fairy – what a spell she'd cast on him! How deeply he loved her!

He released her and bid her goodnight, repeating that she should change her garments immediately. She smiled teasingly at him and answered that she would. With that she left him and he watched her disappear out of sight.

He felt dazed – had this really taken place or had it been some figment of his overactive imagination? No it had all been real – her arms about him, her lips on his, her telling him how she would rather death than to be torn away from him. She loved him – he was loved. For the first time in his life Edward Fairfax Rochester was loved. He made his way to his bed chamber disheveled and wet, but smiling from ear to ear.

* * *

The storm woke him. He heard a large clap of thunder and the lightning was so bright it illuminated his room. He climbed out of bed, lit a candle and examined his watch. It was just after three in the morning. He slipped on his dressing robe and went to check on Jane.

He knocked lightly on her door. If she was asleep he did not wish to awaken her. He waited a few seconds and then heard movement. She was awake. She opened the door and stood there in her nightgown.

"Are you well, Jane?"

"Yes, sir."

"I thought the storm may have awoken you."

"It did indeed and I thought I should check on Adele."

"We can go together," he suggested. She nodded and they tiptoed over to Adele's room. Jane stepped inside and returned a moment later to inform him that she was sound asleep.

"She must sleep deeply," he observed.

"Indeed," Jane replied as they walked back to her room. He stood in her doorway aching to kiss her, but somehow it didn't feel proper with her only in her nightdress. He didn't wish to embarrass or make her feel uncomfortable.

He asked if she'd be able to get back to sleep and she assured him that she would, and asked the same of him.

"Yes I think so," he answered. They stood for a moment in silence gazing at each other. Edward felt a heat course through his veins even though he was standing in a drafty hallway. He cupped her face with his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb. The hallway was dimly lit but he could just make out the rosy tinge her cheeks acquired from his touch.

"Jane," he whispered; his voice heavy with desire.

"Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, my love." He knew he should depart but his legs were rooted to the spot. "Jane, have breakfast with me tomorrow."

"No, sir."

"No?" he asked in surprise.

"It would not be proper – not yet."

"And when would you deem it proper, my fairy?"

"It is late, sir, we both should get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow about such matters."

"Very well, but I can see I will have trouble with your stubborn nature," he teased.

"Indeed, sir. I wish you to become acquainted with all my faults so you know full well what kind of bride you will be getting."

"I look forward to you educating me further, Miss Eyre."

She smiled. He took her hand in his, caressing it with his fingers, then brought it to his lips and kissed the warm, soft flesh. "Goodnight, Jane," he whispered.

"Goodnight, sir."

* * *

Edward paid for the purchases they'd made in the store in Millcote and followed Jane and Adele out to the carriage. One of the store assistants carried out some of the silks he'd bought for Jane's new wardrobe and the material for her wedding gown, all neatly wrapped up.

As he stepped outside he noticed a familiar carriage pull up and watched as Lady Ingram stepped out, followed by Blanche.

Lady Ingram offered him no greeting – merely an icy cold stare. Not that it mattered; nothing could alter his joyous mood today. Adele had already hurried into their carriage but Jane was at his side and he caught her hand before she followed Adele.

"Lady Ingram, I hope you are well," he greeted.

She seemed put out that he had the nerve to address her. "Mr. Rochester," she nodded, apparently in a rush to walk past and get out of his troublesome presence.

"I believe you remember Miss Eyre," he continued. He knew Jane would be annoyed with what he was going to do next, but Lady Ingram deserved what was coming.

"Yes," she muttered.

"I am happy to announce that in less than a month she'll be Mrs. Rochester."

"You are to be…married?" she asked, shock clearly written on her face.

"Indeed."

"I…well…I suppose congratulations are in order," she said. He knew she didn't mean a word of it and that it pained her to put on a front. It pleased him no end.

"Thank you for your kind wishes. Good day." He smiled and climbed into the carriage with Jane. He caught sight of Lady Ingram and Blanche, rooted to the spot, speechless.

He chuckled.

Jane sat down, promptly removing her hand from his grip. "That was completely unnecessary," she chided.

"Indeed, but so much fun, my darling! Surely you don't begrudge me a little fun do you?" he asked, putting on his puppy dog expression.

Jane ignored him and stared out the carriage window. He moved closer to her and whispered in her ear. "Are you angry with me?"

"No, sir, but I do not see the purpose of humiliating them both."

"Ah, my angel, you are too good a creature. How you can say such things after the way they treated you? And you were not privy to all I had to endure – you escaped to Gateshead while I had to put up with their boorish company."

"If you are attempting to acquire my sympathy, Mr. Rochester, you will not garner it."

"Oh?"

"They were your guests; no one forced you to invite them."

"There's truth in that, but I had my reasons."

"Yes, you did."

Jane had asked him this morning about why he'd gone to such pains to try to convince her he wished to marry Blanche. Her response to his explanation was that he had a curious and designing mind. He'd expected more of a chastisement, and it was to his great surprise that she merely wished to be reassured that Blanche's feelings weren't hurt. She was doing the same now.

"Jane, imagine if you had to listen to some women who thought she was the most superior being on earth, tell you every five minutes, or at least it seemed that way, that you were on the verge of announcing your betrothal to her daughter. Believe me when I say that even the most patient of men would have been sorely vexed."

"It was your choice to play such a charade"

"That is true – but how else was I to secure your feelings?" She didn't answer but turned away. He spied a smile on her face. He sought out her hand and was pleased when she didn't pull away from him as she had on the journey into Millcote.

"Besides I am a bit of a scoundrel as you well know. As for today, well I simply could not let the opportunity pass of putting Blanche and her mother in their place. Especially after some of the things they said about you – you may not feel indignation, but I will feel it for you, Jane."

He remembered the tears in her eyes and how depressed she'd been that night she'd left the main gallery. How he'd had to resist the urge to pull her into his embrace and comfort her. How his heart had ached for her and how he'd wanted to order Blanche and her intolerable mother out of his house that very night! They'd been so cruel and insulting to Jane.

Jane didn't answer but squeezed his hand tenderly. He felt reassured that she was not displeased. If Adele had not been present he surely would have kissed her, alas Jane had insisted on bringing the child along.

But tonight he'd have her to himself, after Adele had gone to bed. He hoped they'd sit together in his study, enjoying each other's company and planning their future.

* * *

Lady Ingram could not concentrate on any purchases and after an hour of perusing the finest silks and latest fashions, told the store owner she would have to return another day. Blanche had faired better and picked out some material for a new ball gown.

"I am as shocked as you are, Mother," Blanche began when they were on their return journey back to Ingram Park. "Parading her around like that as if she were one of us!"

"Indeed, my darling. I fear for his sanity — what men in their right minds marry their governesses?"

"Exactly! I admit I always did find it peculiar that he had her in the room with us every evening."

"Yes."

Lady Ingram recalled the evening they'd been talking about governesses. She'd joked with Rochester about how he needed to be on his guard against the creatures – they were known to make eyes at their masters. At first she had not understood the expression on his face. He'd answered saying she surprised him, but now she was certain of it – he'd been pleased at her comment!

If she had not witnessed with her own eyes Miss Eyre standing beside Mr. Rochester today she would not have believed it. And this was the reason her daughter had been cast aside!

Perhaps she should be grateful that Blanche had made a lucky escape. He was not worthy of her. Showing her face at the summer ball would not be such a trial some affair now. In a few days time she was sure all of Millcote and probably the entire county would know of Rochester's marriage-to-be. People would pity her and Blanche for being so unfairly treated, and speak of him as a scoundrel.

Rochester was a fool! He and his governess deserved each other!

* * *

Their month of courtship seemed to fly past. Edward put his business matters into order and made travel arrangements for him and Jane. He'd planned an extensive itinerary with her help and they'd consulted travel books together – discussing in detail what places she wished to visit.

He was grateful that in her excitement she'd never asked when they would return to Thornfield. He hoped to stay away from this dungeon and its imprisoned fiend as long as he possibly could.

This last month had been the happiest he'd spent in years. In Jane's company he felt complete and looked to the future with hope. It was after he bid her goodnight and they parted for the night, that doubts would nag at him.

What if something went wrong? Some nights sleep wouldn't come at all as his conscience tormented him, reminding him of what exactly he was doing! And Jane would ask the next day why he looked pale or seemed irritable. His mood usually passed after spending a few minutes in her company, but he knew his soul would not rest easy until he and Jane were miles away from this prison, and the first Mrs. Rochester.

But a battle raged within him – there was quite a conflict. Part of him acknowledged that he was playing a charade – but this was much worse than what he'd done to Blanche. He was being untrue to his beloved fairy – offering himself to her as her husband when he knew full well in the eyes of the law, and God, that he could never be that.

He felt like he was on the edge of a precipice. What should he do? Every idea he conjured up ended the same way – Jane leaving him. And yet perhaps all he was doing was delaying the inevitable. Even if the wedding took place without a hitch and he managed to escape with her to France, there would be a time when Jane would discover the truth. He'd actually promised her that – in a year and a day he'd sworn he would reveal all.

What would she say? How would she feel? Would she leave? Would she despise him?

He knew how stubborn her nature was and how she strictly clung to her moral code. For those reasons he could not breach the truth now, he knew she would leave.

On the other hand a voice convinced him that he was doing the right thing. Didn't he deserve love, like any other human being? And didn't Jane?

Tomorrow morning he'd be a bridegroom. He paced in front of the fireplace in his bedchamber, his mind churning over his thoughts. Yes, this was the right thing to do, he assured himself. It was not his fault that he'd been chained to Mason's insane sister. She was no more his wife than a corpse in a graveyard. He was free – to love and be loved.

Tomorrow Jane would become his bride and wife. He needed to stop worrying about all the things that could go wrong. There was no need to fear – Mason was out of the country and Grace Poole was not going to jeopardize her job. He sighed with relief as he felt confident that tomorrow would be the happiest day of his life and Jane would finally be his.

With this thought he retired to bed.

THE END


End file.
